Reaction Paper:
“Jack Reacher”

James Barr, a former U.S. Army sniper was suspected as the man who drives a van into a parking garage and randomly killed five people around the park. Emerson, a police detective discovers a shell casing and the coin used to pay or parking that has the fingerprint of James Barr. Emerson and the District Attorney, Alex Rodin soon interrogates Barr, and the only thing that Barr said is to get Jack Reacher. The story about Jack Reacher starts now. Reacher is a former U.S. Army Military Police Corps officer. He arrives soon after seeing a news report about Barr and the shooting. After seeing Barr, who was brutally attacked by fellow inmates and is now in a coma, he meets Barr’s defense attorney, Helen Rodin, the District Attorney’s daughter, who is trying to save Barr from death penalty. Reacher agrees to be Helen’s lead investigator with some conditions. After Reacher starts investigating, he started to have some doubts about the killing. By further investigating, Reacher realizes that someone is forcing him into dropping his investigation. He is later framed for the murder of a young woman. Reacher eventually met Cash, a former U.S. Marine Coprs Gunnery Sergeant. Helen was kidnapped by Emerson together with the gang led by a former Soviet prisoner who called himself ‘The Zec’. Reacher, with the help of Cash, now rescues Helen from the gang. After killing Zec, Reacher and Cash flee from the scene, making Reacher a wanted man, but with the confidence that Helen will clear his name. When Barr awakens from his coma, he tells Helen that he has no recent memory but believes that he must be guilty of shooting. Barr’s mental reconstruction of how he would have commited the shootings confirm’s Reacher’s theory was correct from the beginning, and proves that Barr is not responsible for the crime.
The film was very interesting, having intriguing turns, suspicions, and moments of shock for the viewers. It was full of mysterious events which makes the viewers curious of what really happened, who is responsible, how did the events really occur, it was very intriguing. Viewers will likely attempt to predict many of the intended twists.

"Promise Land"

"Where am I?"
"Is this the real world?"
A lot of things are on my mind. I may be young and innocent, but not ignorant. I can clearly see what's present.
I can only imagine life when the world was first created, a beautiful scene yet to be exploited. A dash of green and blue then add the bright yellow sunshine that lights up the day. God gave us a world full of promise. He wanted us to use it, take care of it and make sure that there is plenty for everybody.
The water is not blue as it was.
The air we breath is not healthy anymore.
The forest that used to be rich and full, nowhere to be seen.
Dead
Denuded
Destroyed
"What happened to the promised land?"
"How dare we ruin it!"
"If the world could only speak, it would tell us how much it hurts."
"All of us can do something but not everyone is willing to do it."
"Now, I can't imagine what the future holds."
Living
Hoping
Praying
The chances are getting thinner every time. Time is running out. We better do it now or pay the price later.
Let's rebuild this world and plant new life for a new day.
CASABLANCA

There was a great battle at sea. Once could hear nothing but the roars of the big guns. The air was filled with black smoke. The water was strewn with broken masts and pieces of timber, which the canon balls had knocked from the ships. Many men had been killed, and many more had been wounded.
The flagship had taken fire. The flames were breakin’ out from below. The deck was ablaze. The men who were left alive made haste to launch a small boat. The leaped into it, and rowed swiftly away. Any other place was safer now than on board of the burning ship. There was powder in the hold.
But the captain’s son. Young Casablanca, still stood upon the deck. The flames were almost all around him now but he would not stir from his post. His father had bidden him stand there, and he had been taught always to obey. He trusted in his father’s word, and believed that when the right time came, he would tell him to go.
He saw the men leap into the boat. He heard them call to him to come. He shook his head.
"When father bids me, I will go", he said.
And now, the flames were leaping up the masts. The sails were all ablaze. The fire blew hot upon his cheek. It scorched his hair. It was before him, behind all around him.
"Oh Father," he cried, "may I not go now? The men have all left the ship. Is it not the time that we, too, should leave it?"
He did not know that his father was lying in the burning cabin below, that a cannon ball had struck him at the very beginning of the fight. He listened to hear his answer.
"Speak louder, Father," he cried, "I cannot hear what you say".
Above the roaring of the flames, above the crashing of the falling spars, above the booming of the guns, he fancied that his father’s voice came faintly to him through the scorching air.
"I am here, Father. Speak once again," he gasped.
A great flash of light fills the air; clouds of smoke shoot quickly upward to the sky and —
BOOM!
Oh, what a terrific sound. Louder than thunder, louder than the roar of all guns. The air quivers: the see itself trembles; the sky is black. The blazing ship is seen no more. There was powder in the hold.

I am a Filipino...(author: Carlos P. Romulo)
I am a Filipino, inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such, I must prove equal to a two-fold task -- the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to the future.
I am sprung from a hardy race, child of many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon a mighty swell of hope -- hope in the free abundance of the new land that was to be their home and their children's forever.
This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of the shore that their eyes first set upon, every hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green-and-purple invitation; every mile of rolling plain that their view encompassed, every river and lake that promised a plentiful living and the fruitfulness of commerce, is hallowed spot to me.
By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law -- human and divine -- this land and all the appurtenances thereto -- the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming with fish, the forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wildlife and timber, the mountains with their bowels swollen with minerals -- the whole of this rich and happy land has been, for centuries without number, the land of my fathers. This land I received in trust from them and in trust will I pass it on my children, and so on until this world is no more.
I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes -- seed that flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapu-Lapu to battle against the first invader of this land, that nerved Lakandula to combat the alien foe, that drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor.
That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit deathless forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gregorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst forth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacañang Palace, in the symbolic act of possession and racial vindication.